Cerita Pendek Tragic Love & Novel Scumbag Face Slapping

Valentine's Day falls on the same day my boyfriend's company goes public. I spend one million dollars reserving an entire hotel, certain that Michael Cosby is finally going to propose. After all, he promised to marry me once he made something of himself. I wait for ages, only to receive a curt message saying he has something to take care of. Feeling crushed, I go on Instagram and unexpectedly come across a post from my best friend, Winona Ashe. "Back in Mr. Cosby's hometown for the wedding. Congratulations, Lylia! After everything you've been through, you're finally getting your happy ending!" The photos show a small-town wedding, with Michael as the groom and his secretary, Lylia Sutton, as the bride. Unable to believe what I'm seeing, I leave a single question mark in the comments, and that exposes everyone else who has been betraying me behind my back. Linda Cruz, the manager who personally got hired at the company, is the first to comment. "Holy shit, Winona. Did you forget to hide this from the golden goose?" The receptionist, who constantly fawned over me as the future Mrs. Cosby, joins in, "Great. Now the spoiled princess is going to throw another fit." Even an intern I've sponsored chimes in, "What if she gets petty and pulls her investment? Wouldn't we be screwed?" Finally, Peter Crane, the deputy CEO I personally mentored, reassures everyone. "Relax. Ms. Jenner only gave us the seed money. The company's already public, so even if she cashes out, it won't make any difference." How ironic. I spent six years helping Michael build himself up from nothing, only for him to betray me, and every person at the company I bankrolled all the way to its IPO betrays me right along with him.

The contractions tore through me. I called my husband, Maxim Volkov, the ruthless Don of Chicago. He didn't answer. I dragged myself out of the penthouse, crawling, and begged a stranger to get me to the Volkov family's private hospital. "I'm Maxim's wife. Get me a delivery room! He'll pay." I pleaded with the nurse, my water breaking. She just stared, shocked. "You? The Donna? Nice try. Don Volkov is already upstairs with his wife. She's in labor." Wife? Since when did Maxim have a second wife? Before I could ask, another contraction ripped through me. Everything went black. When I woke in the recovery room, the real betrayal hit. My baby was gone. All I got was a cold, "The baby wasn't breathing. We couldn't save him. I'm sorry." I searched the whole hospital, sobbing, and ended up outside the VIP maternity suite on the top floor. That's when I heard the truth that shattered my soul. "With the kidney from Seraphina's kid… a perfect match… our son is saved. You can rest now, Isla." Maxim's voice. So gentle, from behind the door. His other wife… was my adoptive sister, Isla? Then I heard my so-called mother's voice, cold. "We had no choice. We took Seraphina in for exactly this reason. It's the least she owes us." My newborn son. Sacrificed. Used as medicine to save another child. I stumbled back, ice in my veins. And there was Isla, victory glowing in her eyes. "My baby was never sick," she whispered, sweet and venomous. "I just wanted everything you had. Why should a stray like you get the Don's love?" The tears stopped. They thought I'd just take it. Give up my place as Donna. They were wrong. I picked up my phone and dialed the number I'd refused a hundred times. My voice was calm. "Brother. I'm coming home. I'm ready to take my rightful place as head of the Ricci family. And I will marry Dante Romano."

Eight months into my pregnancy, my husband finally makes time from his police duties to go to a prenatal checkup with me for the first time. The moment we step into the hospital, his satellite-encrypted phone buzzes urgently. The caller ID flashes briefly, and just like that, the man who's always calm and collected panics. "Honey, it's a red alert. Another international fugitive just crossed the border. I… I'm sorry…" He's clearly anxious, yet his tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. After apologizing, he rushes off. As I watch his SUV speed out of sight, my fist clenches tightly, crumpling the prenatal checkup sheet. I flag down a cab, slide into the car, and swiftly instruct the driver, "Follow that car. Don't lose it." A Red Notice for a fugitive? What a joke. My father, who works at the National Security Agency, barely catches wind of a notice like that. Yet, somehow, a mere police chief who only assists with cases is suddenly tasked with catching a high-priority criminal. Fine, then. I can't wait to meet the superior who's given him such an urgent assignment.

For seven years, my girlfriend, Sienna Jacoby, struggled with emotional avoidance. She never initiated a conversation with me. Whether I discussed major or minor matters with her, she only replied with either [1: Yes] or [2: No]. Even when I showed her the medical record that confirmed my uremia diagnosis, she gave a curt response and turned to go to work. My best friend, Ethan Quinn, once advised me, "A woman like her is worse than an air conditioner. At least an air conditioner knows when to cool you down and when to warm you up. What is the point of being with someone like her?" I stroked the ring on my ring finger and smiled. "She is just sick and does not know how to express herself. She loves me." A month later, on my birthday, I arrived at the restaurant late and saw Sienna sitting next to Ethan. They leaned closely together. The woman who always acted cold toward me beamed as she carefully wiped the rain from my friend's forehead. Ethan wore Sienna's coat. I looked away and fixed my gaze on the text message I sent to her a few minutes earlier. Clint Button: [Sienna, it is raining heavily today. I did not bring an umbrella. Could you come and pick me up?] Sienna: [2: No] I stood still and realized that I was the sick one. I had been blind as a bat.

Ophelia Hart had been married to Rowan Cabell for five years. He had been cheating on her for four and a half of those years. His list of mistresses could probably stretch all the way from Merion to Freeka, and the condoms he had gone through could practically wrap around the entire globe. However, Ophelia never made a scene. Whenever Rowan brought another woman to bed, she would quietly prepare a cup of warm water and a box of his favourite lemon-flavored condoms. When they were done, she would calmly arrange for the maid to clean the room. It was all because of the first rule in the Hart family’s code for women—'A husband’s infidelity is never an excuse for anger or confrontation. Never make a scene. Never raise your voice. His comfort must always come first. Violate this rule, and you will pay the price yourself.’ Ophelia had once paid that price for six months. Those six months were more than enough to make the lesson unforgettable. Hence, when Rowan wrapped his arms around Lydia Beaumont and passionately kissed her in front of everyone, then loudly announced that he was going to marry her, Ophelia merely reached into her bag. She pulled out a pack of strawberry chewing gum, offered it to them with both hands, and said sweetly, “Kissing feels better when you’re chewing gum.” Everyone burst into laughter and started cheering. They thought she had finally learned her lesson. However, they had it all wrong, because she was about to leave…

While tidying the house, I discover that my newly bought pack of sanitary pads has been opened. Without any hesitation, I contact my lawyer to have him draft up a divorce agreement and send it to Lucas Gardner. It doesn't take long before Lucas calls me. "This again? What's your reason this time?" Biting my lower lip, I answer, "There's one less pad in my drawer."

On my wedding day, I had just stepped onto the aisle when a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. "Take it all off, and she's got a body on her! Look at her face, like she's enjoying it!" I turned toward the voices and saw my ex-husband's photos of me blown up across the giant screen. They kept changing, one after another, explicit and impossible to ignore. All around the room, phones were already coming up as people started taking pictures. My hands began to shake. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother collapse. Behind Leon Coleman, Allison Fleming slapped her thigh and raised her voice, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Oh, wow. Leon showed these to the guys yesterday, just messing around. Guess they accidentally put it on the big screen. Gemma, you're not gonna make a big deal out of it, right?" The groomsmen laughed. "Come on, Allison. Leon always lets you get away with anything. Gemma had to beg for this wedding. There's no way she'd dare complain." With all those eyes on me, Leon reached for my hand and held it, his tone easy. "Allison's one of my closest friends. We joke around like that. She didn't mean anything by it, so don't take it personally. It's just a few private photos. I'll have someone take them down. It's our wedding day, so just bear with it for now."

Natalie Shaw, the dance company's new understudy, slipped razor blades into my practice outfit and left my back slashed and bloody. My boyfriend, Derek Mercer, the theater's associate director, sent her makeup case skidding across the room with one furious kick. "Touch her again, and I'll end you!" Natalie was thrown out of the rehearsal room, her eyes rimmed red. After that, she didn't just refuse to back down. She hired a few thugs to corner me in the alley behind the theater. Derek threw himself in front of me to block a steel pipe, fracturing his arm. Everyone said Derek would die for me. Then, at a sponsors' dinner the night before the tour, I drank a glass of wine Natalie handed me. Within minutes, my limbs went slack and my skin began to burn. I dragged myself into a storage closet at the end of the hall, only to hear Natalie's syrupy voice just outside the door. "The way you took that beating for her two days ago almost broke my heart. But..." Fabric rustled, and Natalie giggled. "Back in the private dining room, you watched me slip something into her drink. You knew those sponsors had cameras ready and were waiting for her. And you just stepped out for a smoke." "You let me destroy her reputation, so the principal role is mine now. Right?" Derek said nothing. He only pinned her against the door. The door vibrated slightly, striking a heavy blow against my heart. He had already given his heart to someone else.

All of New York knew that Caspian Solis, the Don of the Solis family, worshipped the ground I walked on. Then an ambush left him with amnesia. Not only did he forget me and our twenty years together, but he also mistook his secretary, Ivy, for the love of his life. He tossed our matching bracelets and stared at me with dead eyes. "You are not my type. Ivy is the woman I love." My heart shattered. I tried everything to help him remember. Until I overheard a conversation between him and his right-hand man: "Don, how long are you going to keep this up? What if your wife finds out you are faking the amnesia?" Caspian exhaled a cloud of cigar smoke, completely unbothered. "She won't." "I just want to have some fun while I am young. Eating the same meal every day gets stale, doesn't it?" "When I have had my fill, I will tell her my memory came back. After all, Lorelai is the one I truly love." Standing outside the door, I felt violently sick. A thought sparked in my mind: If Caspian could fake amnesia to play me, why couldn't I? So, I accidentally fell down a flight of stairs. When I woke up, I locked eyes with Caspian's ally and biggest rival—Zane, the most feared Don in New York. I smiled and threw myself into his arms. "There you are, darling."

"Mrs. Sterling, are you sure you're ready to end this marriage of twenty years and give up the custody?" "Yes. File it. I’m done." I said calmly through the phone as I scrubbed at a stubborn grease stain on the granite island. For twenty years, I poured my entire being into this family. I managed the households, handled the children's education , and stood by my husband's side, supporting his rise in the syndicate without complaint. But my husband Alexander brought his young adopted sister Chloe to the interview, saying, "My success today is all thanks to my adopted sister." Even my own children looked down on me, calling me common and crude housewife. They had formed an alliance with his ever-present "auntie," the woman who seemed to think she was the true lady of the house. I signed the divorce papers and walked away, leaving them to become the "perfect family" they clearly wanted. But that when the family panicked…

As the only granddaughter of the late Royal Chancellor, Evelyn Lansing was the most celebrated lady in the capital's high society. But for the sake of Julian Sterling, heir to the Sterling family, she turned herself into the city's biggest joke. When Julian lay unconscious after falling off a cliff, Evelyn traveled a thousand miles alone to find a reclusive healer and waited outside his door for a week without food or water. After bringing the healer back, she cast aside her reputation and spent three years at Julian's bedside, nursing him back to health with her own hands. Yet the moment he woke up, he publicly declared that he intended to marry Evelyn’s maid, Ivy. The news tore through the capital like wildfire.

When I arrived at my wedding in my bridal gown, I found an octagonal fighting ring set up in the center of the stage. My fiance, Derek Hale, was holding the hand of his "girl bro," Chloe Shaw. With a smile, he handed me a pair of boxing gloves and explained, "Vivian, this is a tradition from my hometown. The bride has to get into the ring and wrestle one of the groomsmen for good luck. I asked Chloe to go up. Just play along for a minute." Looking at Chloe, who was always acting frail and sickly, I did not think much of it and stepped straight into the ring. But the next second, she threw an extremely professional spinning kick and knocked me unconscious with a severe concussion on the spot. When I woke up, I was paralyzed in a hospital bed. Derek stood there holding Chloe's hand and said to me, "Our relatives and friends gave us so much wedding money. The wedding can't go on without a bride. Chloe is willing to take care of me in your place. You're so kind, Vivian. You won't mind, right?" Under the torture of humiliation and severe depression, I pushed my wheelchair off the rooftop of our wedding home. When I opened my eyes again, I was back one month before the wedding. I turned around and knocked on the door of a national-level kickboxing champion training base. "Coach, if I trained for a month, can I punch someone's head open?"

Everyone in the Rossi family knows that their Don, Giovanni Rossi, loves me, Rebecca Costa, more than anyone else. Ever since we got together, he has stopped attending any social events that involve other women. We promised to marry once he returns from negotiating a dangerous arms deal in Aelfana. He was supposed to come back a week before the wedding, but instead, he returned on the eve of the wedding with Rosa Bianchi, his stepsister, in his arms. Rosa was unconscious, and traces of intimacy were visible on her skin. Giovanni kneeled before me, his expression remorseful. "Rebecca… I was drugged. I never meant to betray you. When Rosa threw herself at me, I thought she was you." And I believed him. At least, I did until I overheard a conversation in the changing room backstage at our wedding. One of his men asks, in disbelief, "Did you really mistake her for Rebecca?" "I did for the first night. But for the rest of the week… well, a man ought to have his bit of freedom before getting married." My fingers clench around my phone. In my inbox sits an unopened message—a marriage invitation from Angelo Calavaro, the most enigmatic Don in southern Ilya's underworld. I know what I have to do.

Every single time I get intimate with my boyfriend, Lyle Holloway, I notice he always changes the bedsheets afterward. After a frenzied release, I can't help but ask him about it. Lyle gently twirls a strand of my hair around his finger and smiles tenderly. "Of course it's because your best friend sweats buckets. Every time before I do it with you, she gets jealous and insists on going first. Ever since I met her, I've realized that women really are made of water." His response catches me off guard, and I stare at him in utter disbelief. "What did you just say?" He stubs out his cigarette, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Grace, your mom was tortured to death in bed by your dad, not by me. So, every time you lie in bed like a corpse, it really kills the mood. That's your trauma, not mine, and you shouldn't expect me to pay the price for it, got it? "In fact, you should thank your best friend. She's helping you maintain our relationship!" My best friend, Pamela Sinclair, rushes in with tears in her eyes and immediately slaps Lyle across the face. "Apologize to Grace right now, you bastard!" I gaze at the two of them, but all I can taste in my throat is bitterness. Turns out, all these years, I've been nothing more than a burdensome killjoy in Lyle's eyes. I'm done squeezing into a bed that was never big enough for three of us…

Just before the weapons design competition, my design schematics mysteriously go missing. Since I no longer have anything to submit, I'm disqualified from the competition. Meanwhile, my older sister, Camilla Cassano, steals the show with my designs. She gets what she wants, which is to marry the next don of the Carbone family—and the man I've had a crush on since I was a child—Leon Carbone. When she brags about it to me, I don't kick up a fuss. Instead, I calmly wish her the best. In my previous life, I'd chosen to expose her on the spot. I seized back the glory that was meant to be mine and married Leon. I thought that was the start of my happiness, but it turned out to be the beginning of my nightmare. Leon had always been in love with Camilla. Throughout our five years of marriage, I was made to slave away like a robot and spend all my time researching. In the end, I was blown to pieces in an explosion triggered by sheer exhaustion. Now that I'm back in time, I personally deliver Camilla to Leon's side, and I marry Don Lorenzo Marra, the notoriously ruthless womanizer. Everyone waits to watch me sink into the depths of despair, rueing my every decision. I'm the only one who knows just how powerful the man, so misunderstood by the world, truly is.

After graduation, I post something online without really thinking about it. "Does not relying on you anymore count as growing up?" My childhood friend's comment pops up almost instantly. "That's cause for celebration." I don't understand, so I send him a question mark. After a while, his reply comes through. "Mara, do you know everyone says you're like a leech I can't shake off? "School's over. You don't need to be stuck to me every day. "Learn to stand on your own. No one in college is going to put up with a big baby." Then, without missing a beat, he sends me a download link. "Got a question? Ask AI. It's more useful than relying on me." Just like that, the boy who has looked after me for 12 years hands me off to an AI app. I sit there stunned for a long time, then quietly download it.

I was Alpha Damon’s Head Beta. For six years, I had been his partner in bed and his second-in-command. When he announced our mating ceremony, the entire pack celebrated. My dream was finally within reach. But then, outside his private trophy room, I heard him bragging about his “Luna trials.” And just like that, I learned the truth. I wasn’t his one and only. I was one of thirty candidates. He’d spent a month with each of us, grading our bodies, our submission, our performance. My score? Lower than an Omega’s. Lower than Lydia’s. “Fucking Lydia was incredible,” he boasted. “I could barely pull myself away. Then I look at Elysia—so stiff, so in control—and I’m just… bored.” Ice flooded my veins. My body went numb. Six years of devotion. Countless nights tangled in his sheets. It all meant less than a cheap thrill and a wolf who knew how to kneel. My heartbreak hardened into ice. I sent a message to an Alpha who had wanted me long ago. “Adrian, you once said your offer to mate was a standing one. Does it still stand? Damon and I are over now.”

Just because I accidentally broke my adopted sister’s bracelet, my brother threw me into the black market to “learn my lesson.” By the time I was rescued, I had been tortured so brutally that I was barely recognizable. It was Elijah York who risked his own life to pull me out of that hellhole. When we finally escaped, his blood had soaked my clothes, yet he held me tightly against his chest and whispered that he would never regret it. For three years after that, I drifted between moments of clarity and bouts of pure madness. I despised myself, constantly feeling dirty and broken, but Elijah always treated me like a princess. Until this day, my mind was, for once, clear. Caressing the tiny new life I had just discovered growing inside my womb, I was overflowing with joy as I hurried to surprise him. However, right outside his office door, I overheard a conversation between him and my brother. “Did you actually catch feelings after playing a part for so long? Don’t forget that in three months, it will be the optimal window for Chloe’s bone marrow transplant.” Elijah let out a low, amused scoff, his tone indifferent. “I’ve been drugging Nora for three years. Everyone thinks she’s completely lost her mind by now. Legally, she is my wife, and I hold full guardianship over her. That’s the only way the bone marrow extraction process remains completely legal and compliant.” I froze right where I stood, the blood freezing in my veins.

While we were scuba diving, my boyfriend, Raphael Carlisle, ripped off my oxygen mask and put it on his childhood friend, Lucia Fairchild, whose mask had started leaking. I was left thrashing helplessly in the freezing water. Just as I thought it was over, Raphael's younger brother, Gabriel Carlisle, swam over, breathed life into me, and brought me back to the surface. After he saved me, he presented me with the purple diamond ring he designed himself and proposed, "For as long as I live, I'll never let you face danger again." I believed that he was my one true love, so I married him, leaving my job behind to focus on starting a family. On the day Lucia was given a critical condition notice, I ended up in a car accident. As I lay half-conscious on the hospital bed, I overheard Gabriel talking with Raphael. "Get a doctor to induce labor right away! Lucia's illness can only be treated with a stem cell transplant from umbilical cord blood. The only reason I got Phoebe pregnant was for this very day." "But she's carrying our bloodline! How could you have someone hit her with a car?" Raphael yelled. Gabriel replied, "Lucy matters more to me! As for Phoebe, I can spoil her rotten once she wakes up." At that moment, I realized the love I held on to was nothing but a lie. If that was the case, I'd just leave.

Everyone said Alvin Danford and I balanced each other out. We were meant to be. I'd always been lucky. I'd win free meals, score a phone in a drink promotion, or enter a drawing at the company holiday party and walk away with a four-figure cash prize. Alvin was the opposite. Bad luck followed him everywhere. His e-bike got stolen while he was making deliveries. Just when he'd saved some money, a family emergency hit. He finally landed a steady job, then got slammed with an unexpected expense. Every prize I brought home went toward one of his emergencies. I never minded. I believed we balanced each other out. My good luck made up for his bad luck. Then, five years into our relationship, I won my biggest cash prize ever: $20,000.